


save your ghosts

by staringatstars



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Gen, Lucid Dreaming, Near Death Experiences, Post-Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: There's no one to be found on Buddy Aurinko's spaceship.No one, that is, besides Juno Steel and a man who died almost twenty years ago.
Relationships: Benzaiten Steel & Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 15
Kudos: 179





	save your ghosts

It starts with the beeping.

It’s an incessant, grating sound that feels like a drill bit burrowing out from the inside of Juno’s skull. 

He turns on his side with a loud groan of complaint. “Would somebody turn that racket off? I’m _trying_ to get some shut-eye here.”

When the rhythm quickens on the heels of wakefulness returning, Juno registers that the noise is coming from a heart monitor. He’s woken up hooked up to machines in bland white infirmaries before, so he’s not overly worried just yet. Opening his eyes to find himself in an empty clinic is definitely a little unsettling, though. 

Usually, it’s Vespa checking in on him. 

Sure, her bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, but when it comes to patching up laser burns and the like there’s no one better suited to the job. It’s a responsibility she takes as seriously as the grave, though she also treats omelets with the same amount of severity, so it could very well be more of a general personality thing than any sense of duty on her part.

Hard to say for sure when he could never seem to drag more than two words out of the woman at a time. Unless, of course, she was threatening him with some anatomically improbable harm.

In that case, she tended to lean more towards the chatty side.

Even if she wasn’t around, Rita would be, or Jet, or even Buddy on occasion. There was one other Juno could name who had a tendency to come visit, if only for short times and usually when he was asleep, but none of the names buzzing at the forefront of his mind felt right, and for some reason, he was reluctant to speak the only name that did.

It had been a gift once. 

There’s a patch of skin on Juno’s arm that’s tingling and cool where the IV is pumping in nutrients. Juno grips the tube between his fingers, gives it an experimental tug, and then - 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Super Steel.”

The hint of amusement in his voice, the slightly teasing lilt to his warning, and the concern simmering just beneath the surface are all so hauntingly familiar that Juno jerks in shock, accidentally ripping the needle from his vein with a roughness that’s sure to leave a nasty bruise. 

Warmth spreads down his arm, soaking his sleeve and dripping onto the floor.

Juno barely notices.

Because sprawled lazily by the window is someone wearing a face he hasn’t seen in nearly twenty years and simultaneously one he has seen every single day of his life. It’s waited for him in every mirror, every reflection. 

Benzaiten Steel. 

He looks roughly the same age he had when Juno had hallucinated their conversations during the THEIA surgery. His dark curly hair has grown out a little, enough that he could mess it up by running his fingers through it, and the wrinkles he wears are softer. Not so much a crease between his brows, but smile lines around his mouth and a hint of crow’s feet around his eyes that crinkle whenever he laughs.

Right now, though, he doesn’t look to be in much of a laughing mood. If anything, his graying complexion seems to suggest he is going to be sick, which is actually pretty funny because he isn’t the one who’s just ripped an IV out of his arm.

Juno sucks in a sharp breath, both at the throbbing in his wrist and the implication of what seeing Benzaiten means. “This... probably isn’t a good sign.”

He starts to catalogue his surroundings. Even if this is a dream or a hallucination, the details are usually important. Paying attention to details had saved his life more times than he could count, and he doesn’t need Benten to remind him that this is exactly the kind of thing he’s good at - finding the one thing that doesn’t make sense. 

How did he end up in the clinic?

“That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it?” Benten says as though he’d spoken out loud and nods towards the beeping monitor. “Why are you here?”

There’s a bouquet of dahlias and roses sitting on the windowsill. Every single bud is dried and dead, the water in the vase spotted with green clumps of algae and murky. 

For a reason Juno can’t quite grasp, the sight unsettles him. He clears his throat. “Do you mean in, like, an existential sense or…?”

“Same rules as before, Juno. If you want your Get Out Of Jail Free card, you’re going to have to solve the mystery.” 

There’s a bouquet of dahlias and roses sitting on the windowsill. Every bud has blossomed into vibrant hues of golden yellow and violet and scarlet, stretching like lions’ manes and casting a strong, sweet scent into the air. They look as though they’ve just been watered and the vase itself is crystal clear.

Juno blinks. The flowers have started to wilt. “Sounds vaguely unpleasant.”

“Eh.” Ben shrugs his shoulders. “Sugar tastes good but it’s the medicine that makes you better.” He swings around, hopping down from the windowsill with a dancer’s grace. Judging by the loose gray shirt he is wearing and sweats, he’d just left the ballet studio. Or that was just how Juno liked to remember him. 

Always moving, always happy, always doing something he loved. 

“This is a dream,” Juno decides. It should have been obvious, yet it felt like a revelation.

Ben nods with a small smile. “Sure. That’s a good hypothesis. Evidence?” He motions for Juno to continue. 

Is this the case he needs to solve? Prove that he’s dreaming?

He looks down at his clothes to see he’s wearing a trench coat and jeans. The IV has vanished, along with the blood on his arm, though the monitor remains. He studies the lines with interest, tracing the peaks and dips of the green line with a fingertip. If he remembers right, one of the lines shows his heart rate while another shows brain activity. 

And there _is_ activity, which is something of a relief, since according to Sasha he's been certifiably brain-dead since he turned eleven. The random spikes, hills, and valleys don’t tell Juno much, except for the fact that, if he can trust these readings, he’s alive. 

It's as good a start as any. 

The bedsheets are crisp and white. They rub awkwardly against his skin like someone used too much starch when they were in the wash, and the sensation is so physical, so present, that not even the presence of his dead brother can completely convince him that none of this is real. He presses the pillow to his nose and takes a big whiff, noting the scent of salmon snacks with a grimace, as well as a distinct cologne. 

If this is a dream, it makes sense that he wouldn’t be able to interact with the crew. Then again, if it were as easy as that, he has a feeling Benzaiten wouldn’t be looking quite so smug as he watched him try to put the pieces together. 

Was Rita in the same room as him? Was she hurt? Was Nureyev--

“They’re fine, Super Steel,” Ben cuts in before he can get himself too worked up. “You’re the one in trouble.”

That’s a hint if Juno ever heard one. He rises to stand on his feet, the corners of his mouth dipping into a frown. “Think you can elaborate on that?” 

Benten shakes his head with a twist of a smile. “Forgot already, did you? I--”

“--don’t know what I don’t know.” Squeezing his eyes shut, Juno pinches the bridge of his nose with a frustrated sigh. “Right. Obviously.” 

When it becomes clear that there isn’t anything more to learn in the clinic, they drift towards the rest of the ship. Benzaiten hums tunelessly under his breath while they pass the exposed piping and rusted, peeling panels in the corridors. 

The _Carte Blanche_ is an old spaceship. Buddy does her best to keep her running but keeping the craft in pristine condition is a luxury they cannot afford to spend in creds or time. Still, the engine runs and she flies, which is all any of them can ask for. 

It takes Juno a minute to realize what’s so unsettling about the halls. At first, he thought it might be because he can’t hear any of the crew, and that’s definitely part of it, but the thing that’s really getting under his skin is the absence of footsteps coming from him and Benten. 

Now that he’s thinking about it, there are no shadows either. 

Weird.

Before he can chase it, though, his brother shoots him a lopsided grin, looking for all the world like a young twenty-something with a bright future ahead of him and starlight in his eyes. He gives Juno’s shoulder a nudge, “Who’d have ever guessed that the great Juno Steel would turn to crime?”

“Every teacher I’ve ever had.” Benten huffs a short laugh at that. “Sasha. The Kanagawas. Captain Khan. Actually, scratch that, the entire HCPD has been chomping at the bit to arrest me since practically my first day on the job.”

They’re standing in the meeting room that doubles as a dining hall. The table has been set for five, every seat provided with a plate and silverware except for one, which would be noticeably empty if not for the fact that none of the crew were present. On the stove, a pan filled with egg batter sizzles softly. 

“It suits you, I think.”

“What?” Juno mutters distractedly. “Being a criminal?”

“Being free. After a while, Hyperion City was just this shackle around your neck, choking the life out of you. It could’ve done you in for good if you let it, but you chose to let it go.” Then he’s cupping the back of Juno’s neck. He’s warm, like he’s just been running, and there’s chalk on his palms. When Ben bends his head to press their foreheads together, Juno meets him halfway. “You chose _you_ ,” he says while on the verge of tears. “And I am so, so proud of you, Super Steel.” 

The pan on the stove is gone. Each plate is filled with scrambled eggs and someone knocked over the hot sauce. It cuts a watery red-orange path across the table.

“You’re starting to scare me a little, Benzaiten.”

The plates are clean. The stove has long cooled and there’s no sign of the hot sauce spill. 

A brush of invisible fingers at Juno’s elbow nearly frightens him out of his skin and he jerks away from the touch. It doesn’t stop the electrifying and disorientating sensation from running up his arm. “What the hell was that?!”

As usual, Benten looks far too smug, “Best guess? Your Duke GlassRansomPeterRose or whatever.”

Juno sighs. “Yeah, I get the picture. Just pick an alias and stick with it, will ya?” Slouching, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “And besides, he used me as a reference. I’m Peter Ransom’s professional acquaintance in the Aurinko Crime Family. Nothing more and nothing less, which is… not great, exactly, but it’s better than being strangers, I guess.”

“Riiight. That certainly explains why his cologne was on your pillow.”

A flush heats Juno’s cheeks. “Did I say that? I don’t think I ever said that.” He fiercely wishes there was some privacy in his brain, even if intellectually he's painfully aware of the fact that trying to keep information from a memory was pretty much pointless.

“I’m just saying," his brother shifts awkwardly, the way he always did when he was about to say something Juno didn't want to hear, "maybe he’s not as mad at you as you think he is?”

_Some of us take our jobs seriously, Juno. Why don’t you use your distracting nature to our advantage and keep our target occupied?_

“Aw,” Ben coos. “He thinks you’re distracting.”

“Of course you’d get hung up on that.” 

_Juno? Where are you? Why aren’t you with the target?_

_Prince put something in my drink, Ransom. Looks like you’ll have to continue the heist without me. I don’t think I’m going to be much use to you passed out on the floor. Or, I mean, I hope I’m just gonna pass out. Right now, that’s looking kind of optimistic._

_Juno, tell me where you are quickly. If you’ve been drugged, then he’ll be sending someone to retrieve you._

_...I don’t think… anyone’s coming, Ransom._

_I am. I’m coming, Juno… Rita! I need you to--_

Ben whistles. “Man, that was… heavy.” He squints at Juno. “Do you always get poisoned on your dates?”

“Not always... And it wasn’t a date!” Too late. Whenever Benzaiten got something stuck in his head, it was impossible to get it out. You might as well try to capture the tide or pick a fight with air. 

“Shut up,” Juno mutters, earning himself a canary-eating grin.

“Here’s what I think, Juno - I think he’s madly in love with you, and it’s driving him up the wall. A guy like that? Composed and in control at all times? Always the man with a plan? Except there’s no planning for Juno Steel, is there?” He slings his arm over Juno’s shoulders, the weight of him so solid it steels Juno’s breath away. “Someday, he’ll realize how lucky he is to love you.” 

He’s not even aware of how wet his cheeks are until Ben points it out. “Are you crying? And here I thought you were more of a “catch your reflection in the bottom of the glass and feel sick” kind of guy.”

“ _You’re_ crying,” Juno retorts, scrubbing at his stinging eyes with the cuff of his sleeve. 

When he looks up, they’re standing in the infirmary again where the scent of Nureyev’s cologne and Rita’s salmon flakes have grown overpowering. There’s a pressure on the back of Juno’s hand that feels like a slender thumb massaging circles over his knuckles and he’s no longer sure if all of the tears coating his cheeks are his own. 

“They’re here,” Juno breathes. “I can feel them.” 

He places a hand on the edge of the mattress to find it warm. 

“I guess you know already, but when you died, Benzaiten... it felt like half my heart died with you. I didn’t think I’d survive.” 

His brother, the memory of him, joins him by the bed, his thoughtful gaze fixed on the patch of fabric where Juno’s hand rests. “Can you afford to give him a piece of it, then? Do you think you can live with a quarter of a heart?”

“If he stays, then I won’t have to.” Juno sets his jaw and squares his shoulders like he’s ready to go to battle. “I won’t be another tragedy, Ben. There’s enough of those already without me adding to the list.”

“So, you’re going back, then?” Benzaiten looks at him with a face that is both younger and older, wary and hopeful and still so proud.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I miss them. I miss _him_. Plus, I made a promise.”

“To Rita?” The bouquet of dahlias and roses had a Get Well Soon card hidden amongst its stems. Within it was a doodle of a cat with six compound eyes and a stinger for a tail. Upon spotting the drawing, Ben’s lips quirked in amusement that was undeniably fond. “She’s taken good care of you over the years.” 

“Well, yeah, but to myself, too.” On the mattress, Juno’s fingers curl, as though wrapping around the hand of a thief he can’t see. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, “I promised I would try.”

If Benzaiten had lived, he would have loved Rita. They’d be an inseparable pair, and probably talk Juno’s ear off with more and more fantastical plot synopses. Ben would always drop by the office with her favorite snacks and badger Juno into taking breaks. If he’d lived, he might have been a dance instructor, but whatever he did, Juno is sure he would have left the world a better place than he’d found it. It was just the kind of guy he was.

And maybe he and Nureyev would butt heads at first - Ben had always been a little overprotective when it came to his twin and romance - but Peter had the soul of an artist in him and if they didn’t bond over that then they could commiserate over their horrible cooking. 

A lady could spend the rest of their life buried under the weight of what-ifs and maybes if they weren’t careful, so Juno doesn’t look at Benzaiten like they’ll never see each other again. Ben’s already proven he’ll be around if Juno needs him. 

This isn’t goodbye.

They reach for each other at the same time, circling their arms around each other like two halves of a whole. “I know, Super Steel,” Benzaiten says against his jaw. “I love you, too.” 

Distantly, Juno hears voices calling his name and lays his head on his brother’s shoulder. When the pull comes, he doesn’t fight it, letting the galloping pace of his own heartbeat guide him home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
